


i want to tell you (but i don't know how)

by BigDangoFamily



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Dating, Getting Together, Happy Ending, Love Confessions, M/M, Oikawa's Fangirls - Freeform, Pining, matsukawa and hanamaki only show up in one scene
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-04
Updated: 2020-01-04
Packaged: 2021-02-27 07:02:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,628
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22113031
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BigDangoFamily/pseuds/BigDangoFamily
Summary: It would be easy to hate them.They show up wherever Oikawa goes, crowding around him, clamoring for selfies, making him put on that wide fake smile Iwaizumi has seen a hundred times. They crowd the balconies during volleyball practice and waylay Oikawa on the way to official matches and frankly they’re just plain distracting to the rest of the team (Iwaizumi has heard the second- and third-string players complain many times during practice about how they can never get girlfriends, and why do they always have to like Oikawa, sure, he’s pretty, but his personality is trash, and he can only date one at a time anyway, and there are two dozen single, available guys right here—).So it should be easy to hate Oikawa’s fangirls.But as Iwaizumi has learned over the years, things in life are rarely easy.Contrary to popular belief, Iwaizumi does not hate Oikawa's fangirls. In fact, he can't help but have a lot of respect for them.
Relationships: Iwaizumi Hajime/Oikawa Tooru
Comments: 10
Kudos: 280





	i want to tell you (but i don't know how)

**Author's Note:**

> Title of the work taken from "Neptune" by Sleeping at Last

It would be easy to hate them.

They show up wherever Oikawa goes, crowding around him, clamoring for selfies, making him put on that wide fake smile Iwaizumi has seen a hundred times. They crowd the balconies during volleyball practice and waylay Oikawa on the way to official matches and frankly they’re just plain distracting to the rest of the team (Iwaizumi has heard the second- and third-string players complain many times during practice about how _they_ can never get girlfriends, and why do they always have to like Oikawa, sure, he’s pretty, but his personality is trash, and he can only date one at a time anyway, and there are two dozen single, _available_ guys right here—).

So it should be easy to hate Oikawa’s fangirls.

But as Iwaizumi has learned over the years, things in life are rarely easy.

Iwaizumi sometimes thinks he’s _supposed_ to hate them. It’s what the rest of the Seijoh team seems to expect, and it makes a certain kind of sense, really. Iwaizumi gets angry at Oikawa often enough for talking to his fans before practice and after games and whenever else they manage to swarm him. Yet that anger never seems to extend to the girls themselves.

“I’m going to kill him,” Iwaizumi threatens one day after practice, his hand balling into a fist as he watches Oikawa get swept up in a crowd of squealing girls. He’s so much taller than them, it’s absurd. He reminds Iwaizumi of a lighthouse in the middle of a stormy sea—impossible to miss, effortlessly drawing all attention. He’s smiling that damn fake smile again, bright enough to light up the night. It makes Iwaizumi sick to his stomach, although that might just be the heavy cloud of perfume he can smell even from the other side of the court, where he and the other third-years are helping to put away the equipment.

“Mmhm, yep, totally,” Matsukawa says next to him, reaching up to lower the net. He looks singularly unimpressed, although that probably has something to do with the fact that Iwaizumi’s declarations of murder are a daily occurrence at this point. Still, that doesn’t stop Iwaizumi from shooting him a glare. Matsukawa pretends not to notice.

“You can’t stop Oikawa from being Oikawa,” Hanamaki says as he helps Matsukawa with the net. “Even if you killed him, he’d just come back as a ghost to annoy you.”

“Can you imagine a ghost-Oikawa? Man, that’d be a nightmare.” Matsukawa gives an exaggerated shiver.

“He’d follow you around everywhere,” says Hanamaki. 

“He wouldn’t let you sleep at night,” replies Matsukawa.

“He’d go through all your things and find all your dirty secrets.”

“That just sounds like Oikawa now,” Iwaizumi responds, the corners of his lips quirking up.

Hanamaki chuckles. “To you, maybe. But if he was a ghost, he’d be like that towards the rest of us, too.”

“And he’d probably still get all the girls,” Matsukawa adds. “I bet they’d think dating a ghost would be super cool.”

“Dude, what are you talking about? Dating a ghost is undoubtedly cool.”

“True,” Matsukawa concedes.

“So, you see, Iwaizumi, killing Oikawa would be a waste. You’d have a lot more luck if you went after his fangirls,” Hanamaki says.

Now it’s Hanamaki’s turn to be on the receiving end of Iwaizumi’s glare. “I’m not going to kill his fanclub.”

“Why not? It’d solve a lot of problems,” Hanamaki counters.

“The second- and third-string players would stop bitching,” Matsukawa says.

“Oikawa wouldn’t be so damn smug about being a lady-killer,” Hanamaki replies.

“He wouldn’t get so distracted all the time.”

“He’d stop bragging about his girlfriends.”

“He wouldn’t tease us about being single.”

“And he’d have more time for you,” Hanamaki says casually. Too casually.

Iwaizumi startles, his whole body instinctively tensing. Taking a deep breath, he forces his muscles to relax.

“I don’t see how that’s a good thing. Why would I want to spend more time with that dumbass?” Iwaizumi shoots back. Neither Hanamaki nor Matsukawa respond. The pointedly blank expressions on both their faces is answer enough.

Iwaizumi ignores them both for the rest of clean-up. Just as he’s getting ready to head out, Oikawa finally extricates himself from his group of fangirls and makes his way over.

“Iwa-chan! Wait for me!”

Iwaizumi gives a loud sigh but obediently waits for Oikawa to catch up. They both start walking, falling into step together automatically. Their arms swing loosely between them, just far enough apart to avoid touching. 

“That was a good practice, don’t you think, Iwa-chan?” Oikawa asks, his eyes twinkling mischievously.

“You can’t just skip out on helping the team clean up,” Iwaizumi says, ignoring Oikawa’s question. “You’re the captain, idiot. You have to set a good example.”

Oikawa flaps his hand, waving the criticism away. “Don’t be such a stick in the mud, Iwa-chan. Besides, it’s only been a month since school started. I have plenty of time to learn how to be a good captain.”

Iwaizumi grunts. He knows Oikawa doesn’t need to learn anything. He’s already a great captain. It’s his personality that he needs to work on.

“Well, tell your fans not to bother you so much. You’re never going to learn if they’re always around.”

“Oh, Iwa-chan, are you jealous?” Oikawa mocks in that simpering tone that always makes Iwaizumi want to hit him. “Don’t worry, you’ll find a girl who won’t care how ugly you are one day.”

A vein throbs on Iwaizumi’s forehead. Murder is looking more appealing by the second. Oikawa seems to recognize this because he throws one more insult over his shoulder before taking off running at full speed. Iwaizumi sprints after him, yelling at Oikawa to get back here, goddamnit, stop running, Shittykawa, I’m going to kill you, you asshole.

Oikawa turns his head to gauge how far behind Iwaizumi is and laughs, the sound washing over Iwaizumi like summer rain. The glow from the streetlamps shines on Oikawa’s glossy brown hair and catches on the edge of his smile. It’s not as bright as the one he was wearing earlier, but to Iwaizumi, it’s infinitely more beautiful.

Because Iwaizumi knows.

He knows what Hanamaki was trying to insinuate. He knows why Matsukawa never believes him when he says he hates Oikawa. He knows why he has never been interested in going out with any girls. He knows why watching Oikawa on the court sends fire raging through his veins. He knows why Oikawa’s smile—the real one, not the one he uses for his fans—is enough to dispel any anger he might be carrying.

He knows, but he will never tell.

Because however close he and Oikawa might be, Iwaizumi’s not sure he’s ready to cross that line. Because Oikawa has been his best friend for forever, and not having Oikawa in his life anymore would be like a gaping wound in his side. Because Oikawa might not return his feelings, and he doesn’t think he could handle Oikawa giving him that fake smile while Oikawa turns him down and tries to reassure him that they can still be friends and breaks his heart into a million pieces.

Because—and this is really what it boils down to in the end—Iwaizumi is _scared_.

And that’s the reason why he can’t hate Oikawa’s fans. Every time one of them asks Oikawa for a selfie or hands him a confession letter or gives him chocolates on Valentine’s Day, it’s just another reminder of why Iwaizumi can’t help but respect them. 

They all have the courage to do the one thing Iwaizumi cannot.

+

Her name is Hayashi Kazuko, and she confesses to Oikawa on a cloudy Monday afternoon in early fall.

Oikawa and Iwaizumi are just about to head to practice when Hayashi comes up to them, her heart-shaped face flushed bright red and her fingers nervously playing with the flower hair tie holding her side braid together. She’s slim and tall for a girl, almost Iwaizumi’s height, although the anxious bend of her spine makes her look smaller. Iwaizumi vaguely remembers seeing her at a couple of Seijoh’s volleyball matches.

“O-Oikawa-san,” she stutters, “could I, um, talk to you for a moment?” The edge of a neatly folded letter sticks out of her skirt pocket. 

Iwaizumi sees Oikawa dart his eyes down to the piece of paper before flicking them back up to meet Hayashi’s gaze. A smile immediately breaks out on Oikawa’s face, wide and fake. “Of course.”

At this point, Iwaizumi decides to tactfully retreat from the situation. He’s not in the mood to listen to someone confess their love to his best friend. The whole thing hits a little too close to home for comfort. Instead, Iwaizumi slips away quietly and heads to the gym by himself. He’s in the middle of stretching when Oikawa enters the gym. 

“How’d it go?” Iwaizumi asks, his voice gruffer than he’d intended. Oikawa sits down beside him and gives a broad grin.

“Hayashi-kun is very adorable, isn’t she? And sweet, too.”

Iwaizumi rolls his eyes. “Dumbass. I was asking if you’re going to go out with her.”

Oikawa gives an elaborate shrug. “I hate to disappoint a cute girl like that, but I’ve been very busy with volleyball lately. I said as much to Hayashi-kun. It wouldn’t be fair to her if we were dating and she never got to see my beautiful face.”

“That’s surprisingly considerate of you, Shittykawa.”

“What? I’m always considerate, Iwa-chan!” Iwaizumi rolls his eyes again. “In any case, she said she understood, but she would like it very much if we could at least go on one date.”

“Are you going to?” Iwaizumi asks. His voice must not sound entirely normal because Oikawa shoots him a sharp glance before responding.

“Maybe,” he says in an exaggerated singsong. 

Iwaizumi stares down at the hard gym floor as he stretches forward. He remembers the way Hayashi had walked up to them, with trembling hands and faltering steps. And maybe it’s because he’s been thinking about it recently, but Iwaizumi is suddenly filled with a surge of admiration towards this girl—this girl who was clearly frightened and nervous and worried and still took the risk to confess her love anyway, who was still brave enough to expose her most hidden desires. And maybe it’s this admiration that makes Iwaizumi do it (or maybe Iwaizumi is secretly a little bit masochistic), but as he sits back up, he raises his head toward Oikawa and says, “You should.”

Oikawa abruptly turns his head to meet Iwaizumi’s stare. He’s not smiling.

“You think I should go on a date with Hayashi-kun.” It could be a question, but they both know it’s not.

“That’s what I just said, Shittykawa. Pay attention.”

“Why?” Something flashes in Oikawa’s eyes, gone too quickly for Iwaizumi to identify.

_Because she was shaking and terrified, because she had the courage to confess, because she deserves that much, at least_. But Iwaizumi doesn’t have the right words to explain, the words that will make Oikawa understand without delving into Iwaizumi’s own feelings, so instead Iwaizumi shrugs and lies. “Why not? You think she’s cute. And it’s just one date. There’s no harm in one date.”

Oikawa’s still staring at him, and Iwaizumi has the sudden realization that Oikawa’s trying to hide what he’s feeling. There’s something lurking behind the curious blankness of his eyes, and Iwaizumi doesn’t like the shadow it casts on his expression.

“Well, alright then,” Oikawa says brightly, tearing his gaze away from Iwaizumi’s. Oikawa keeps his face firmly pointed away from Iwaizumi as he continues talking. “If Iwa-chan thinks I should, then I guess I will.”

+

They go on a date. Oikawa spends the entire next day regaling Iwaizumi with accounts of just how cute Hayashi-kun is (unlike some people) and how sweet Hayashi-kun is (unlike a certain Neanderthal Oikawa could name) and how thoughtful Hayashi-kun is (unlike some boring, ugly volleyball players) and how—(at this point, Iwaizumi grabs Oikawa into a headlock, effectively shutting him up)

One date turns into two, two turns into three, and soon, Oikawa and Hayashi are officially dating.

Iwaizumi has never wanted to hate someone more in his entire life. If only he hated her, it would be easier to deal with the pang in his heart whenever he saw them holding hands, the ache in his chest whenever he saw them laughing together, the unexpected pain that had lanced through him the one time he’d accidentally walked in on them making out in an empty classroom.

He’d instinctively slammed the door shut. Through the window in the door, he could see Oikawa and Hayashi jump apart at the sound, but Iwaizumi hadn’t stuck around to see if either of them had noticed him. Instead, he’d raced to the boys’ bathroom and locked himself in a stall before allowing himself to acknowledge the hurt boiling in his stomach. It was acid eating through his walls, corroding him all the way down to the core, to the very heart of his being.

_Why do you even care so much?_ he’d asked himself. _He’s not your boyfriend. You told him to go on that date. The only person you have to blame is yourself._

But even knowing that it’s his own fault isn’t the worst part—the worst part is that, against all odds, Iwaizumi _likes_ Hayashi.

He likes that she’s always kind and considerate, even when Oikawa’s being a brat. He likes that she indulges Oikawa when he rambles about volleyball and aliens and space. He likes the way her eyes light up when she talks about art. He likes that she’s a huge romantic. He likes that she makes Oikawa homemade bentos and writes him semi-frequent love letters and gives him lots of small random gifts. He likes that she thinks it’s important for her to get to know all of Oikawa’s friends, especially him. He likes that she is not the type of person who gets angry very easily.

“Don’t be jealous, Iwa-chan,” Oikawa mocks one day during lunch. He, Iwaizumi, and Hayashi are sitting in a circle on the almost-deserted roof, the oncoming chill of winter enough to drive most people indoors.

Oikawa takes another bite of the bento Hayashi had made him. “Not everyone can have a girlfriend as awesome as I do who makes me delicious food every day.”

Hayashi’s cheeks turn a delicate shade of pink while Iwaizumi rolls his eyes, taking another bite of his admittedly less impressive-looking yakisoba bread. “Can’t you give a compliment without insulting someone for once, Trashykawa?”

Oikawa gives a dramatic gasp. “So mean, Iwa-chan! You’ll never get a date if you’ve got a bad personality _and_ awful looks.”

Iwaizumi’s hands clench around his bread. “Die.”

“I don’t think Iwaizumi-san will have trouble finding a girlfriend,” Hayashi hurriedly interjects. She’s gotten used to Iwaizumi and Oikawa bickering by this point, but she still always tries to play peacemaker between them. _It’s in my nature,_ she’d said once when Iwaizumi had told her that arguing was just something he and Oikawa did (it’s one of the things he likes most about her). 

“Lots of girls I know think Iwaizumi-san is very attractive,” she explains, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear. 

“R-Really?” Iwaizumi asks, feeling his ears heat up. 

“Of course,” Hayashi replies, surprise coloring her tone, like it should’ve been obvious. “You’re the ace of the volleyball team, after all. And you’re really strong and athletic, too. I mean, you’re not pretty like Tooru-kun, but I still think you’re—”

Hayashi suddenly breaks off, her entire face turning crimson. Iwaizumi feels his own cheeks changing color to match hers.

Oikawa turns a sly grin on Hayashi. “Oh, what’s this? Is my girlfriend attracted to Iwa-chan?” Coming from anyone else, Iwaizumi might think the teasing tone was an attempt to mask jealousy, but he can tell Oikawa is legitimately just teasing. There’s a certain softness to his eyes, a kindness Iwaizumi so rarely sees directed at anyone but him (and it doesn’t make him jealous, no, it _doesn’t_ ).

Hayashi lets out a nervous _meep_. “W-Well, I mean...” She trails off, looking a little like she wants to sink through the roof. Iwaizumi decides to take pity on her.

“Oi, lay off her, Shittykawa. Weren’t you just going on about how great a girlfriend she was?”

“I was just teasing, Iwa-chan,” Oikawa replies. “I know she only complimented you to make you feel better about being single and alone.” Iwaizumi fights the urge to roll his eyes again as Oikawa leans over to give Hayashi a peck on the cheek. This does absolutely nothing to help lessen her resemblance to a tomato.

“I, er, need to go to the bathroom,” she blurts out and quickly heads downstairs. Oikawa gives a low chuckle as he watches her go. He’s still wearing that soft expression.

“You really like her, don’t you?” Iwaizumi asks and immediately wants to take the question back. All things considered, he doesn’t want to hear Oikawa’s answer (all things considered, he’s probably more of a masochist than he initially thought). 

“Of course I do. I’m going out with her, aren’t I?” Even though Iwaizumi was expecting it, the words are still like a punch to the gut. Somehow, he finds it within himself to respond normally.

“You don’t always like the people you go out with.” Iwaizumi can remember many instances where Oikawa had agreed to go on a date with someone only to return and spend hours bitching about them to Iwaizumi.

“She’s just a really sweet person, you know?” Oikawa smirks at Iwaizumi. “Unlike _someone_ I know.”

Normally, this would be grounds for Iwaizumi to get mad at Oikawa and threaten to kill him. But he’s still a little off-balance from earlier, and now he can’t help but follow that train of logic to its inevitable conclusion. 

_Yes,_ he thinks. _She’s really sweet and thoughtful and kind, and she never gets angry, and she’s nothing like me, and I like her because she’s nothing like me, and_ Oikawa _likes her because she’s nothing like me, and Oikawa will never like me._

“Yeah,” he agrees, surprised at how little his voice betrays his inner turmoil. “She’s good for you.”

Oikawa gives a sharp intake of breath. Whatever reaction he’d been expecting, that hadn’t been it. Iwaizumi drops his gaze, refusing to look at Oikawa. He doesn’t want to know what expression is on his face right now. Instead, he stares stubbornly down at the concrete, tracing a crack in the roof. He brings his yakisoba bread up to take another bite—

Without warning, Oikawa reaches over and rips the bread out of Iwaizumi’s hand.

“Wha—Give that back, you asshole!” Iwaizumi grabs for it, but Oikawa jerks it back out of reach. 

“Come and get it, Iwa-chan!” Oikawa taunts. Snarling, Iwaizumi lunges for his food again, crashing into Oikawa in the process. And that really shouldn’t be enough to knock Oikawa over, but Oikawa falls backwards anyway, and he grabs Iwaizumi’s wrist as he does, and then Iwaizumi is falling too, and then—

And then Oikawa is lying flat on his back, and Iwaizumi is hovering over him, one hand braced on the cold concrete next to Oikawa’s head, the other still trapped in Oikawa’s grip. Oikawa’s still holding Iwaizumi’s yakisoba bread above his head. It’s easily within reach now, but Iwaizumi finds that he couldn’t care less. 

Because Oikawa’s face is right in front of him, and it is the most beautiful thing he has ever seen in his entire life.

His hair is just as stylishly messy as always, and it looks as soft as silk, just begging for Iwaizumi to run his hands through it. Oikawa’s brown eyes are wide, the pupils dilated. They look like they’re glowing, as if they’ve absorbed all the light from the noonday sun. His lips are parted slightly, his breaths escaping a little more heavily than is strictly warranted by falling over. Iwaizumi sees a slight flicker of tongue and feels heat start to coil in his stomach. Oikawa’s cheeks are faintly red, although whether from the chilly air or something else, Iwaizumi can’t say.

“I—” Iwaizumi starts, because he feels like he has to say _something_. Oikawa licks his lips, and Iwaizumi abruptly breaks off. He’s acutely aware of their proximity, the small number of centimeters separating their mouths. 

Hesitantly, Iwaizumi starts to lean down, slowly closing the distance between their lips. Beneath him, he can feel Oikawa freeze, all of his muscles tensing up. He’s so close that Iwaizumi can feel the warm heat of Oikawa’s breath fan over his cheeks.

“Um,” says a voice next to them. Iwaizumi jerks his head to the side and sees Hayashi standing there, a strange expression on her face. In an instant, he grabs his yakisoba bread from Oikawa’s limp fingers and yanks himself away from Oikawa’s prone body. Oikawa slowly starts to sit back up, his expression just as inscrutable as Hayashi’s.

“Stop stealing my food, Shittykawa,” Iwaizumi orders, trying to sound as angry as he usually does. He’s not sure he succeeds. He takes a big bite of his bread to hide the trembling in his fingers. 

“You look cold, Kazuko-chan,” Oikawa says, completely ignoring Iwaizumi. Hayashi startles a little at the sudden change in topic. 

“Oh, a little, I guess,” she replies. Truthfully, her hands do look a little red.

“Here, take this.” Oikawa takes off his blazer and drapes it over Hayashi’s smaller frame. He smiles down at her, a real smile (Iwaizumi is _not_ jealous), and she smiles back up at him, and no one mentions what Hayashi may or may not have seen.

But later, as they all head down the stairs at the end of lunch, Iwaizumi catches the questioning look Hayashi gives him.

+

It’s the middle of winter when Oikawa shows up at Iwaizumi’s doorstep one Sunday morning. There’s nothing strange about this in and of itself. Oikawa and Iwaizumi go over to each other’s houses all the time, to practice volleyball and watch movies and play video games.

What makes it strange is the look in Oikawa’s eyes, lively and bright yet somehow a little sad. What makes it strange is that he doesn’t have a volleyball in his hands, doesn’t even ask Iwaizumi to practice with him. What makes it strange is that he wants Iwaizumi to take a walk around town with him _in the middle of winter_.

Iwaizumi grumbles and groans, but Oikawa has always been unnaturally stubborn (and Iwaizumi is maybe a little worried about him), and that’s how Iwaizumi finds himself taking a walk in the park in the freezing cold with his best friend beside him.

His best friend who is currently refusing to explain why he dragged Iwaizumi all the way out here.

Iwaizumi sighs loudly. “If you don’t tell me what this is about soon, I’m going home,” he warns. At first, it doesn’t seem like Oikawa hears him, but after a moment, he opens his mouth and starts to speak.

“Hayashi-kun broke up with me yesterday.” Iwaizumi’s steps momentarily falter. In the back of his mind, he notes that Oikawa has reverted to calling her “Hayashi-kun” again. 

Iwaizumi glances over at Oikawa. He looks perfectly calm, but Iwaizumi knows better than anyone how good Oikawa is at putting on masks.

“Did she say why?” he asks, genuinely curious. Hayashi hadn’t struck him as the type to break up with someone without a very good reason.

“She said I was too obsessed with volleyball. Said she didn’t want to date someone who was that obsessed with something else.” 

Iwaizumi sincerely doubts that that was Hayashi’s reason for breaking up with Oikawa (it doesn’t fit with Hayashi’s personality at all), a feeling that is only amplified by Oikawa’s tone, the one he only uses when he’s trying to lie to his mother. But Oikawa’s shoulders are tensed up, and his posture is a little more hunched than usual, so all Iwaizumi says is, “I’m sorry.”

Oikawa flashes him a grin, wide enough to show teeth. “What’s this? Iwa-chan’s being kind? Maybe I should break up with people more often.”

“Shut up,” Iwaizumi says, lightly shoving Oikawa’s shoulder with his own. They continue walking, the quiet once again taking up residence between them.

They wander around, and Iwaizumi tries to work through his tangle of emotions. He can’t deny that he’s glad they broke up, because at least now he doesn’t have to watch the boy he likes be happy with someone who isn’t him, but he also feels immensely guilty for being glad. After all, he legitimately liked Hayashi, and he knows Oikawa did too. Still, as they leave the park and head into town, he can’t banish the satisfaction settling in his veins.

They pass a convenience store, and Oikawa suddenly stops.

“You should buy me a popsicle, Iwa-chan,” he says.

“Buy your own damn popsicle,” Iwaizumi retorts.

“Be nice, Iwa-chan. I just got my heart broken, remember?”

“You don’t seem very heartbroken to me. Besides, it’s the middle of winter. Why the fuck do you want a popsicle?” Iwaizumi grumbles, but they go into the store, and Iwaizumi buys both of them popsicles anyway, and some milk bread for Oikawa too. Afterwards, they sit on the curb in front of the store, eating their popsicles as the winter wind nips at their ears and their hands turn red and ice-cold.

“If I get sick, I’m blaming you,” Iwaizumi tells Oikawa. Oikawa makes a noncommittal noise as he bites down on his popsicle, breaking a chunk of it off. Eventually, they both finish eating, and then they’re just sitting there, the concrete leaching all the warmth from Iwaizumi’s legs even through the thick material of his pants.

Oikawa leans back on his hands, staring up at the sky, a faraway look in his eyes. “I’m sorry I couldn’t be a better boyfriend for her.”

Iwaizumi ignores the twinge of pain that accompanies these words. “You tried your best.”

“She deserved better.”

Annoyance bubbles in Iwaizumi’s veins. “What are you talking about?” he asks, reaching over to thump Oikawa on the head. “You might not be perfect, but you were good to her.”

Oikawa’s mouth curls into a wry twist. “She deserved someone who liked her more.”

“Don’t be a dumbass. _Y_ _ou_ really liked her.”

Oikawa turns his head to gaze at Iwaizumi. There’s that look in his eyes again, sharp and bright but undeniably sad.

“Not enough,” he says softly. 

Iwaizumi has the distinct feeling Oikawa just admitted something, something big, but he has no idea what, and now Oikawa is turning his head away again, hiding from his confession, and Iwaizumi—Iwaizumi lets him.

+

Spring is fast approaching when Iwaizumi sees Hayashi again.

He’s on his way home from practice, for once not with Oikawa. The coach had kept him behind to discuss strategies and training regimens. Normally, Iwaizumi would’ve waited for him, but he’d been feeling a little under the weather for the past couple of days, and they’d had early morning practice today as well, and he had a mountain of homework to get through, and in the end, Oikawa had told (i.e. ordered) Iwaizumi to go home without him.

Which is why Iwaizumi is alone when he comes across Hayashi sitting on a bench near the entrance to the school grounds, intently focused on sketching. He debates quickly slipping past her before she notices him, but then she looks up, and that plan goes out the window.

“Oh! Iwaizumi-san!”

“Er, hello, Hayashi-san,” he replies awkwardly. He’s really not sure how he’s supposed to behave around her. On one hand, she’s his best friend’s ex. On the other, he’s sure that if they hung out, he’d still like her. Hayashi seems to be caught in the same confusion because she looks like she vaguely regrets calling out to Iwaizumi in the first place.

“How’ve you been?” Hayashi asks, then winces slightly. Iwaizumi knows how she feels. It’s exactly the kind of stilted small talk he had been hoping to avoid.

“Pretty good, I guess,” Iwaizumi responds, shrugging. “What’re you drawing?”

Hayashi holds up her sketchpad for Iwaizumi’s inspection. It’s a highly accurate illustration of the school, with a surprising amount of detail. “Wow. You’re a really good artist.” 

Hayashi’s cheeks turn pink. “Thank you.”

She goes back to sketching, her hand making long, sweeping strokes with her pencil as she starts to shade. Iwaizumi stands there for a moment, watching her. He’s just about to leave when she speaks up again.

“How’s Too—Oikawa-san doing these days?” Her voice is entirely too casual for the way she stumbles over the words.

“Oikawa is...He’s good. Busy with volleyball, and all.” 

Hayashi is silent for a moment. “Did he—did he tell you why I broke up with him?”

Iwaizumi looks curiously at her, but she’s staring down at her sketch, studiously avoiding his gaze. “He told me it was because he was too obsessed with volleyball,” Iwaizumi says slowly.

Hayashi carefully sets her pencil down on her sketchpad. She takes a deep breath, as if preparing herself. “I really, really liked Oikawa-san,” she begins. Iwaizumi doesn’t say anything, silently giving her permission to go on. 

“I’d liked him for a while. I went to a few of your matches, and I saw him play, and it was just...” Hayashi waves her hands in the air, trying to convey what it had felt like to watch Oikawa Tooru on the volleyball court. Iwaizumi understands completely.

“I was overjoyed when he agreed to go out with me. It felt like a dream come true, dating Oikawa-san. He was the boy that every girl crushed on. He was like an untouchable idol, a god, almost. Finding out that he liked me back was something straight out of a fairy tale. 

“And I believed he really did like me. A lot of my friends didn’t believe it, when we first started dating, but I did. I still do.”

The taste of too-cold popsicles and the feeling of chilly concrete beneath his legs suddenly flood Iwaizumi’s senses. “He did,” Iwaizumi says gruffly. Hayashi gives him a small smile.

“It was a fairy tale,” she continues. “A real-life fairy tale, and I was living it, and it was the best thing that ever happened to me. And I ended it.”

She pauses. Iwaizumi waits, heart heavy with anticipation. “But no matter how much like a fairy tale it was, I couldn’t—I _won’t_ date someone who cares about others more than me.” Her hands clench into fists, and a determined expression settles on her face. “I won’t do that to myself. That’s what I told Oikawa-san. That’s why I broke up with him.”

Iwaizumi is struck all over again with admiration for her, for this girl who took a chance and got what she wanted and in the end, chose to give it up anyway.

Then the meaning of her words registers in Iwaizumi’s brain, and a million things suddenly click into place, and all of a sudden, he’s breathless. He stares at Hayashi, hope like a vise on his heart. “You weren’t talking about the volleyball team, were you?”

Hayashi gives him another smile, this one equal parts sad and amused and just a little bit knowing. “No, I wasn’t.”

+

By the time Oikawa comes out of the gym, the sun is starting its slow descent towards the horizon. Iwaizumi is waiting for him on a bench near the gym doors.

“I thought I told you to go home,” Oikawa says accusingly. Iwaizumi ignores him. He stands, stretches, and moves to Oikawa’s side. They start walking home together, feet moving automatically.

“I ran into Hayashi-san earlier,” Iwaizumi says as they exit the school grounds. Oikawa’s steps don’t falter, but his hands twitch, and his eyes widen slightly.

“Oh? What did you two talk about?” Oikawa’s voice is too smooth, masking danger beneath.

“She helped me realize something,” Iwaizumi replies, coming to a stop on the sidewalk. He tilts his head back, watching gold-streaked clouds float by above. 

“What did she help you realize?” Oikawa asks, his stare burning holes in Iwaizumi’s head. Iwaizumi turns to meet Oikawa’s gaze head-on. His eyes glitter with hundreds of different colors in the light of the setting sun.

“That we’re both fucking idiots,” Iwaizumi says in a low voice. Then, before he can doubt himself, he grabs Oikawa’s shoulders, leans in, and kisses him soundly on the lips.

For a second, Oikawa stands frozen in front of him, and Iwaizumi feels panic starting to wind its way through his stomach. Then, suddenly, one of Oikawa’s hands is on his back and the other is in his hair and he’s kissing Iwaizumi back with ferocity and everything melts away but the feeling of Oikawa’s mouth on his.

When they finally break apart for air, they’re both gasping and light-headed. Oikawa’s lips are red and swollen, and Iwaizumi is sure his lips are in a similar condition.

Iwaizumi pulls Oikawa closer, wrapping him in a hug, his lips against Oikawa’s ear.

“I love you,” Iwaizumi whispers. He’s a little surprised at how easily the words slip out, but now that he’s said them, Iwaizumi can’t imagine anything he’s more certain of.

Oikawa’s face is hidden in Iwaizumi’s neck, but Iwaizumi can feel Oikawa’s tears soaking into his skin and hear Oikawa’s muffled reply. “I love you, too.”

They stay like that for a long time, wrapped in each other’s embrace as, overhead, the sun paints the sky in beautiful shades of violet and crimson.

**Author's Note:**

> So, what did you all think? Please leave a comment with your thoughts and reactions! :)


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